


You Are My...

by Rosage



Category: Radiant Historia
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, Kid Fic, Minor Character Death, Nonbinary Character, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 20:34:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5019469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosage/pseuds/Rosage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray is two years old when their father dies.  Elm steps in to take his place as the troupe's guard--and perhaps, as a few other things as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Are My...

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for Femslash February as part of a kid fic bingo prompt. I didn't finish it to my satisfaction at the time, but I've revisited it and ended up with something I like enough to post.

The child appears mostly human. Only their ears are slightly pointed, with tiny tufts of fur growing at the ends, and they cover them in response to noises that humans do not find harsh. They are otherwise furless, and their feet are made of skin that wears easily; Elm thinks about how ill-adapted they are to nature and how many human inventions they’ll use to compensate.

Lady Aht is called, as always with new births, to read the child’s soul. “This one’s an in-between,” she says. The irony is lost on nobody but perhaps her. Elm wonders what humans will make of the child’s gender; from what she knows, their societies only recognize men and women. The child is named Ray for the fact that they were born just as the sun rose, and those not horrified at them consider them a bright new beginning.

Liese swaddles Ray in three times as much cloth as a baby Satyros would need. Elm watches her hold them close and murmur human lullabies, and she watches the father sing Satyros lullabies off-key, and then she has to turn away.

xxxxxxx

Ray is two years old when the father dies. Elm half-expected the family to fall to angry mobs, part of the reason she’s kept watch over them through the years, but the fool dies in a hunting accident while trying to take on one too many boars. Hunting in Celestia is supposed to be communal, unless one is trying to impress a mate; Elm wonders what he thought he still had to prove.

Liese locks herself away and sobs into one of his old coats. “If only I’d rejected him back then, he would have been safely away from monsters,” she says in between hiccups. Elm grips her shoulder firmly. 

“Could you say that to Ray’s face?” 

Liese shakes her head and cries no, of course not, Ray is their little sunbeam, a ray of light. Elm doesn’t say that that’s what she always thought of Liese. It’s a silly thing to even be thinking while Liese’s cheeks are streaked with smudged paint, and not for the first time Elm vows never to think it again.

The Satyros who recognized the marriage—and some who didn’t, out of respect for custom—deliver gifts to Liese and take turns sitting with her and watching the child. After much frantic spinning of her earrings, Liese decides to send her husband’s body back to Granorg rather than giving him a Satyros burial. They don’t hear back from the father’s family.

xxxxxxx

A few humans from Alistel visit Celestia to discuss Mana and vegetation growth. A few more follow, then a few stay, and then the first building dedicated to housing humans is established in a corner of the village. 

The humans let Ray sit in their laps and pull at their sleeves. A couple of them grow on Elm—in their own way. Their technology makes her wary, but they touch Ray more willingly than some of the Satyros, and Liese is always friendly to them.

Then again, Elm thinks as she watches Ray toddle in between Liese and a human scientist, is there anyone Liese isn’t friendly to? She hasn’t always approved of Elm’s temper or opinion of humans, but even Elm would receive a smile and an offer to dance during festival nights. She’s always declined, as for a Satyros she’s stiff and shamefully lacking in rhythm, but she appreciated the attempt.

Liese doesn’t perform these days. During Ray’s infancy Liese stayed in Celestia, appearing to Elm like one of the colorful birds Liese said Granorgian nobles keep in cages. When Ray turns four, Liese slowly returns to her dancing, venturing to Granorg for the first time in years. Elm goes with her, reasoning that there is no longer another to guard the troupe.

In between performances Liese shows Ray around their father’s homeland while Elm looks silently on, glaring at any Granorgian who stares a minute too long at Ray’s ears. Ray exclaims at the tight rows of houses, the Thaumatech gauntlet that an Alistelian immigrant seems to have installed on a Granorgite, the elaborate armor worn by knights. If not watched for an instant Ray begins to climb up gates and grab for food being hawked by vendors, and Liese snatches Ray up, twirling around. “Child, you’re more trouble than Aht,” she says with a laugh and a sigh.

Vanoss, always a favorite of children, watches Ray while Liese changes into costume or checks up on acquaintances, but during shows the duty falls to Elm. She tells herself she’s a guard, not a babysitter, but that’s a difficult pretense to keep up when she’s holding a wriggling child away from a crate of fish they’ve spilled. 

“Keep that freak child of yours in line,” the fishmonger says, shaking a gloved finger. Elm burns for more reason than one.    

“Don’t leave your goods in the middle of the road,” she spits back. Ray points at the fish, which are gleaming silver over the cobblestone.

“So shiny!”

Their hair, which has grown to be like a bushel of hay on their head, tickles Elm’s chin as she lifts them. “Yes, perhaps we’ll buy some for your mother’s dinner. Elsewhere _._ ” She leaves without even a final pointed look at the fishmonger. It’s amazing how responsibility for a child leaves little time to fight with humans.

They do buy fish to prepare for the troupe, and Ray curls up with their legs tucked under them at the inn while Liese asks Elm about Ray’s day, and overall it’s a more pleasant evening in a human settlement than Elm would have expected to have.

xxxxxxx

Liese looks up her late husband’s family, but they refuse to meet Ray. Elm’s words about human stubbornness are not comforting, she can tell by Liese’s expression, not that that’s ever been Elm’s forte. Liese drops her head against the trunk of a tree in a square behind the inn—one of the few places in the capital where vegetation is allowed to grow. 

“No offense, El’, but you’re not the least stubborn one yourself.” Liese adopted the nickname back when Aht was first learning to speak and even Elm’s name was too complicated; nobody besides Liese can get away with using it.               

“That’s not the point. If someone earns my disdain, they get it. If they earn my respect, they get that instead. Refusing to give a blood-relation—a _child_ —a chance is another matter.” 

Liese slides her finger along the cracks in between the tree bark. “You’ve changed when it comes to humans, huh? You used to tell me a relationship with a human would never work, but you’ve been getting along pretty well here, whatever you might say.”

Elm’s cheeks heat at the focus being shifted to her, and at the fact that her eyes are following Liese’s finger too closely. She folds her arms and turns away to survey the city, which is easy to do from this vantage point. Gutrals are rebuilding rooftops, whether from lingering war damage or recent troubles she doesn’t know, and a few Satyros not from their group wander the marketplace. Elm doubts the Gutrals’ labor is being fairly compensated; earlier, human merchants tried to con her into paying double for armor polish. “That wasn’t the point, either,” Elm says.

Nearby Ray is trotting back to the inn with Vanoss, who took them to try a Granorgian treat of flavored ice while Liese checked on their relatives. Every few steps Vanoss has to stop to show Ray a parlor trick. Liese moves away from the tree but watches from a distance. “I’m just relieved that Ray has support,” she says. “Growing up without a father, hated by both sides…I couldn’t help them through that myself.”

Shamed by the fact that in other circumstances she would have once joined those who disdained the child, Elm steps to stand by Liese’s side. “You’re doing an admirable job, and we Satyros—and some humans—stand together. Ray will never be lacking for allies.” 

Liese nudges Elm with an elbow, smiling brightly (Elm breaks her vow, again). “And they have the best bodyguard.”

“Of course. I’ll protect them with my life,” Elm says. Liese laughs, though Elm hadn’t meant to be humorous, and goes to the inn to join Ray, Elm following a measured few steps behind. 

xxxxxxx

They only spend a week in Granorg. Patriarch Barranca wanted the troupe to report back on the state of affairs in Alistel as well, so after a few performances they pack up their instruments and travel back around the mountains.

The journey is slow with a four year old in tow, and Elm is on constant guard in case of monsters. Near the sand fortress she narrowly dispatches a worm that creeps behind her under the ground, making her hooves vibrate, and after halting the group to check the area, she has them hurry on quickly past the desert.

When they stop in Lazvil Hills to rest, Liese leaves Ray sleeping with two of the troupe’s instrumentalists and slips away, saying she wants to scout ahead. Worried for her safety, Elm finds her near the bridge, huddling on the ground and watching the river.

“I thought you’d come look for me,” Liese says. Elm stands next to her with the cliff to her back so that she can keep an eye on both sides of the road.

“Monster populations have decreased in the last few years, but it’s too dangerous for anyone to be alone for long.” 

“Yeah…” Liese takes a deep breath, and Elm realizes she’s shaking. Elm paws the ground. 

“Something is troubling you?” 

“Not really. Oh, did the worm from before get you? You weren’t hurt, were you? Pretty scary, those beasts.”

“I’m unharmed. After fighting armies, worms are nothing.”

“Hm. I guess he should have done more for the war effort, then… He always said it was best to lay low for those things.”

It takes a moment for Elm to figure out who _he_ is, after which she realizes the problem. She hasn’t figured out how to offer sympathy when Liese stands. “I, I need to be with Ray. Oh, I shouldn’t have left for even a minute.” 

Wary of the terrain when Liese looks so pale, Elm offers an arm, which Liese takes and clasps tightly.  Despite her distress, Elm can’t help but note her warmth.

xxxxxxx

Being closer to Celestia than Granorg is, Alistel has many Satyros wandering the streets or hawking goods. A few solo Satyros musicians play near the outskirts; not one for competition, Vanoss takes the group further in before announcing their show. As he does, Ray runs to Elm and grabs her legs, apparently having learned by now that performances put her in charge. She stiffens as their fingers pull at her fur. Truthfully she’s not good with children, finding it hard to see them as anything but small people, which works well enough for someone in Lady Aht’s position and less well for knowing how to interact with a four year old.

She manages to disentangle them from her without causing a scene, and to prevent them from interrupting the show with their boundless energy (somehow already recovered from traveling), she takes them on a walk. They cling to her hand with wet fingers while she searches for a less busy part of the city, wrinkling her nose. She may have developed respect for some of its leaders, but she hates the place itself, the cold metal structures and the disregard for the Thaumatech’s Mana consumption. 

They settle on a bench near the weapons shop, which Elm wants to investigate but finds too loathsome (besides, she’ll get an earful from Liese for taking Ray there). Once seated, Ray kicks their legs and plays with their clothes, a traditionally dyed Satyros tunic and a plain pair of human trousers. Elm doesn’t try to make conversation, watching the humans walk by. Few of them look directly at her, though they stare at Ray. 

For perhaps the thirtieth time on the journey Ray asks when they’re going home and when they’re coming back. They ask why nothing in Alistel is green, and why everyone is looking at them but not talking. Then, without preamble, they ask, “Are you Mama’s husband?” 

Elm chokes. “I…I beg your pardon?” 

Ray flaps the bottom of their tunic up and down. “They say my papa was a guard who loved Mama.” 

Though Elm can’t stop herself from flushing—it’s always taken little to make the rest of her match her hair, always to her further embarrassment—she refuses to be flustered by this child. “Yes, he left us a couple of years ago. I am not him. I’m only protecting you and your mother in his stead.” She realizes how that sounds only after she says it. While she did entertain hopes once, that was half a decade ago, maybe more, and she’s not one to pine.

Ray hums. “I don’t remember him. But you’re really strong.”

The compliment pleases Elm more than she would have expected, and she has to stop herself from smiling. “Thank you. I’m only a replacement for him in strength, though. I’m not a wife, or a father. Do you understand that?”

Ray’s attention has already passed, and they shift into a lying position, flopping over the bench on their stomach. In lieu of rubbing her temples Elm grips the edge of the bench until her knuckles turn white. With luck Ray has already forgotten the whole idea, she tells herself, and returns to eyeing the weapons shop with a mix of longing and disgust.

xxxxxxx

A new human is visiting Celestia, Elm hears upon returning home. Her suspicion can’t override her relief at being back; her body is already reacting to the Mana, easing the ache of the bruise that she never revealed the worm gave her. When she walks past the bushes the humans are studying, she recognizes Dr. Sonja, who sets an instrument down and waves.

Ray has attached themselves to Elm’s legs again; she supposes they think another performance is about to take place. “Is that your friend?” they ask.

“We’re acquainted,” Elm says shortly. Ray mouths the syllables, scrunching their face the way they do whenever they learn a word.

“Humans here are nicer,” they say. Elm agrees. Making no attempt to take Ray from her, Liese ruffles Ray’s hair and tells them not to bother the workers.

Sonja comes over to say hello and introduce herself to Liese and Ray. “I’m A Ray of Sunshine,” Ray responds, to everyone’s amusement. “That’s Mama,” they continue, then, head-butting Elm, “and this is my new mama.” 

Sonja looks quizzically at Elm, who is too startled to correct the statement, then at Liese and back to Elm before smiling and offering her congratulations. Laughing awkwardly, Liese says that’s not quite right, it’s one of those funny things kids say, you know, and Elm is fairly certain she’ll drop dead and her body will be returned to the earth around the plants the human scientists grow. 

Thankfully, Liese soon carts Ray off to dinner and bed, and Elm is left to herself. As the sun sets, the canopy over Celestia creates harsh, speckled shadows. Needing to reflect, Elm wanders to the base of the Celestial Tree, where wisps of Mana provide light. Her tension eases. While traveling, only fireflies had resembled this sight.

She hears hooves in the grass behind her, and she isn’t surprised to hear Liese’s voice. 

“El’? Can we talk?”

In one swoop, Elm’s tension returns. “Of course.”

Liese moves beside her, looking at a patch of air where the Mana flows and swirls freely. Elm had been watching it herself, but now finds it hard to do so. It strikes her how naturally—beautifully—Liese fits into the setting, and she remembers all the time she spent fretting about Liese removing herself from it, perhaps for good. She hasn’t removed her scabbard, and she holds the hilt of her sword as she often does when in need of security.

“Thanks for coming along,” Liese says. “I know you don’t like to leave Celestia, but we were a lot safer with you there.” 

“This may be my home, but sometimes my duty to it requires I leave it. It’s happened before, and I’ll rise to the occasion if it happens again.”

Liese fiddles with a ring. “Is that all it is?” 

“Pardon?”

“Elm… You don’t need to play dumb. Ray really liked having you around.” 

Elm’s throat feels scratchy, like fur is stuck in it. She clears it, then clears it again. “If this is about… Ray and I had talked, and I tried to correct their…ideas.”

Liese steps closer. Elm is staring pointedly at a leaf on the Celestial tree, but she hears it in the shifting grass, sees it in the curve of Mana, feels it in the prickling on her skin.               

“The way you fought off that worm _was_ quite dashing,” Liese says.

“Don’t make a fool of me. You know I—”

“Do I?” Liese’s tone is mild, but Elm feels the weight of the question; she knows that she’s as reserved about some feelings as she is vocal about others.

“I admit I…” Elm shifts her hooves, swallows. “We may have had our disagreements in the past, but I’ve always found you to be dedicated and sensible.” 

Liese sighs. “Is that the best you can do?”

“For now. I never even did the first step of proper courtship.”

“Were you planning to?”

“I was considering it, before…”

“Ha, yeah, he was so pushy compared to you,” Liese says. Elm finally breaks her gaze away from the tree to raise a brow at her. “Oh, don’t give me that look. He was a jealous type, but his soul’s moved on. We’re not allowed to hang onto them, you know that.”

Having spent time in the service of a shaman, Elm knows. Liese scuffs the ground with a hoof before pivoting toward Elm.

“I’m not trying to force you, or rush anything. Just, the next time our troupe goes out, would you come with us? For Ray and I, not just Celestia?”

“It always was,” Elm admits. “And of course I will. Just say the word.”

“Now, that’s giving me a lot of power,” Liese teases, tapping her chin. “When shall I have you leave?”

“I _did_ just praise your sense,” Elm says, aware that by this point her red cheeks must be apparent. “Still, I suppose good things can come from leaving Celestia on occasion.”

In the Mana Liese glows more than usual, her straw hair shining golden in curls of light. Elm turns to fully face her, basking in her dimpled smile and bright eyes, the rays of her personal sun—and she vows to tell Liese, someday, that that’s what she is.


End file.
